


Supers (of Mostly the Villain Kind)

by Ghastjio



Series: Supers [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Drabble Collection, Just. A lot of pain :), M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghastjio/pseuds/Ghastjio
Summary: Welcome to the “my friend and I made ocs and now I’m way too inspired to write about them” fic. Except it isn’t really a fic, it’s just a bunch of drabbles. I will write whatever I want to whenever I want to and no one can stop me.Tags/pairings/general info will be in the summary of each chapter. None of these are NSFW, those are somewhere else.If you like looking at images better, take a look atPepper's art! (aka my friend)
Relationships: Damian (oc) / D.Z.Y./Jonas (oc) / Walton (oc)
Series: Supers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774132
Kudos: 2





	1. A Normal Experiment For DZY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an experiment to figure out DZY's inner voice, written in 10 minutes.

Damian is off to work again. He gives me a kiss, warm lips against cold metal, and my antennae spark without my volition. Then he’s off and I’m alone in the room. Time for Experiment #17 part E: exploring a further range of Walton’s emotions with a dash of ‘ _ how can I make him squirm? _ ’

I oiled the doors of his workshop days ago. He thought I was being nice to him. It’s particularly useful for sneaking into his workshop unnoticed. The fact that he’s currently welding helps too. I stand in a corner watching him for 57 minutes and 38 seconds before he finally finishes, turns, and jumps with a small squeak of alarm. Then his face flushes under his mask and he smooths his lab coat down. We stare at each other for a good 5 seconds before the muscles of his jaw move, just visible outside his mask, unnoticeable to anyone but me. He’s about to ask me a question. He doesn’t get the chance.

“Which of your organs would feel the best to fuck?” I ask.

His expression quickly turns to shock, then there’s a second of consideration, then finally terror. The visual soundwave that takes the place of my mouth mimics a smirk and I leave as silently as I came.

What do you know, hearing him yell “What the fuck!?” makes my antennae spark as well. Seems like it’s time to start planning Experiment #18.


	2. Oh Jeez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features body horror our eldritch lady would be proud of

“Shit, they’re doing this on a  _ roof _ ?” he asks himself. “Who does this sort of thing on a roof, what, a hundred feet off the ground?”

He’s sitting on the edge of a roof too, one just a little taller than theirs, kicking his feet as he watches the scene play out below. The city’s resident superheroes have been trailing these kids for a while and it looks like they finally caught up. Only, you know, they’re not going in for the arrest. Like any good cartoon villain vs. superhero fight, they have to listen to a rant about how no, actually, the heroes don’t understand what it’s like to be in the kids’ shoes.

It’s childish shit, really. But he can dig it. The more expressive twin is standing on an air conditioning unit and delivering a speech that actually isn’t that bad. Hell, even the heroes’ beast seems swayed by his emotion, ears flicked back in uncertainty and nervousness. Damian would love to sit back and really listen to it (he’s vibing pretty well with a lot of those points, actually), but he has a job to do: make sure the heroes don’t die. Or, you know, let them, and then be forced to get D.Z.Y. and Walton back all on his own. Yeah, he didn’t think so.

He stands up, careful not to draw attention to himself. That isn’t too hard, actually. Everyone’s attention is placed so heavily on the twin giving the speech that they don’t notice him  _ or _ the other twin coming out of the shadows behind them. She raises her hands, like a puppet master reaching for the strings, and Damian decides it’s time to make his entrance. He jumps down to their roof, the gravel crunching under his feet, and quickly grabs the back of her shirt. Before anyone has time to do more than turn around and watch him, he tosses her straight off the building.

See? Who does this on a roof?

Sadly he doesn’t get to hear the crunch she probably makes as she hits the ground. Her brother is already screaming “ _ Liv! _ ” (oh man, his voice cracks) and clutching at his hair with wide, teary eyes, warring with himself over whether or should run to the edge to look or stay and take his grief out on Damian. Meanwhile the heroes are looking at each other like they don’t know what the fuck to do and their beast, blue patterns shining nervously on its fur, is looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Damian rolls his eyes and spreads his arms out to the sides. “Oh come on, is that all?” he asks, mostly to the heroes, but the kid answers instead.

“You  _ killed _ her!” he shouts, the grief in his voice reminding Damian of when he first realized that friends can’t come back after you eat them. “You killed her!”

Damian raises an eyebrow and glances behind him. He can’t see down into the alley, but he can imagine what the scene looks like. “Yeah, and you two decided to do this on a roof. This could’ve easily been avoided.”

The twin’s eyes light up in anger and his arms snap rigid at his sides. He looks like he’s about to have a fucking tantrum when he suddenly pauses, then slowly grins. It’s cold and merciless, and Damian can’t help but grin back as his heart skips a beat in excitement. Hell yeah! He’s finally going to see what this kid is all about! The brother lifts one hand just like his sister was doing before and Damian feels his own body tense, about to follow the invisible strings that are surely attached to him now.

Only the hand stops and the kid seems to reassess. Then his expression turns into one of pure sadistic joy as he makes a fist and  _ pulls _ . The effect is instant - all at once something pushes Damian to his knees and the air is pushed out of his lungs with the impact. He gasps and clutches at his abdomen, feeling an intense pressure unlike anything else, but his lungs won’t fill all the way. Then the pain comes and he bites his lip harshly to keep himself from crying out.

Holy  _ fuck _ . He doesn’t know what’s happening, only that something is desperately pushing at him to the point he swears he can actually hear his bones creaking. Blood fills his mouth as his teeth sink into the flesh of his lip and he has to cough it out - he can’t fucking swallow, what the fuck. He feels his second mouth open like it’s trying to shout or gasp in pain and wow, holy shit, he might actually regret egging the kid on.

He faintly hears the heroes launch into action to try to stop the twin, but he can’t focus on them right now. His vision is swimming and his muscles are straining against something that isn’t isn’t actually there, except  _ shit _ , it sure feels like it. The pressure begins to ease a little bit, at least enough that he can actually swallow again, only to double at his abdomen. “Fuck!”, he yells, then lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes that he’s going to die to a fucking kid.

He falls, moving his limbs just in time to catch himself on his forearms before he can faceplant, as his second mouth opens wider. It’s stretched to its limits and Damian’s eyes roll back at the pain of something pushing- 

Ohhh fuck. He shakes his head and regains enough clarity in his vision to look under him. There, in the gap between his hoodie and his pants, a hand covered in unnaturally bright red blood reaches down to touch the gravel roof. He can’t even process its backwards, excess joints as he starts laughing again. He doesn’t even know why, just that he’s scared as fuck and now there’s a  _ second hand coming out of his stomach mouth.  _ He rolls onto his side, no longer able to keep himself upright. The hysterical laughing only gets worse as the pressure increases and, to no nobody in particular, he asks “I-Is this what it’s like to give birth?” He laughs harder at his own joke.

Then he notices a figure above him. He refocuses his gaze only for his grin to widen when he realizes it’s the girl he tossed off the edge. She says nothing, only stares at him with a glare that could kill until his questions finally tumble out of his mouth. The one on his face, not the one currently busy birthing some sort of fleshy horror. That would be gross.

“H-Holy fuck..? How’re you  _ alive? _ Fuck, did it hurt?”

The girl’s eyes narrow and, in the most scornful way a middle schooler can, says “I know gymnastics.”

Damian starts laughing again and the girl, looking like she’s long past done with him, lifts her hand. Like her brother, she  _ pulls _ , and suddenly he isn’t laughing anymore. Or… what? No, wait, he still is, but it’s muted now, like there’s some sort of barrier between him and his senses. It means his pain is also muted, which makes him want to cry in relief so badly. If he only knew how. Hey, looks like she forgives him! Why else would he be in this weird mind space where he can’t feel what’s happening to his body?

Right after thinking that, he realizes that there’s something else in there with him. He can’t turn around to look - he’s stuck looking at the blurry world through tunnel vision gone extreme - but he can certainly hear it. It’s both clearer than anything and muddled beyond understanding, but he somehow manages to understand it.

Ḑ̵̛͔̥͇̮̲͕̈́̂͐̇a̴͚͈̾̓̎m̷̡͓̻̃̔͂͐͝i̷̧̬͚̮̥͗ͅâ̶̧̺̯̂͝n̴̬̞̯̯̮̞̈́.̴̰̻̺̒.̶̱̐.̸̩̈́ it coos, voice echoing a hundred times over, W̶̼͍̥̦̞̓̏e̷̯̤͐̑̉͌̈̇'̵̥͓̖̳̳̠̾͜r̵͕̞̬͉̼͂͆̓͋ę̶̛̯̟̱̥͍̗́̔̉͋̀̓͠ ̶̢̖̙̟̬̥̅ş̸̞̜̩̦͔̅͐t̵̢͖͈̪̫̦̉̌̏̄͆̇i̶̦̖̬̻̞̼͝l̸̢̲̰̖̝̙̞̺̎͛̆͂̃̕l̴̡̛͇͙̘̥̦̎̒̃ ̶͖̫̳̏͝s̸̞̱̈̏͐͂̋̂͜͠͠ͅȏ̷̥̙̜̤̍̌̌͛͊ ̶̪̞̝͚̫̖́͋ḧ̵͖̭̜̮̭͍̬́́̊̓̌͛͝ȕ̶͖͑͆̿͝n̵̩̙̙̬̻͑̃̾̄̈͠g̶̠̳͖͉͈͒͐̏̾͜ȑ̸̨̧̧͍̯̗̺̕y̶̢̻̲̱̽͆.̴̦͎̗̟͒̒͘.̵̞̠̹̳̐̽͒̔͝.̵̦̘̺̥͂͛̐ ̴̠̬͙̻̠̞̫̇̊̓̌̈́w̷͉͕̅͒̽ó̷̢̹͆ṇ̶͚̫͕̗͇̂͊̊'̷͑̿ͅt̶̺̹̠̻̃ ̵̡͊y̶̬͛̿͌͆̇̈̚o̷̻̺̜̘̽̽́̈̄̀͝͝u̶̹̺̻̭̇ ̶̙̀̉̈́̂̐l̶̯̹͗̏͝ë̶̛̻͚̤̝̣̲́͛̍̚͝ẗ̶̮̬ ̶̮͈̬̿͒̈͑̊͒͠u̴̮̱̘͛́̾̍̆̋ṡ̴̨̜̥̙̱̤̥͒̐̅͌ ̶̨̡̧̬͉̳̌̎̍́͛̅f̷̲̄̒͘e̶̺͚͉͎͌̈́͋͆̚ė̶̢̪̦͉͚́̀̄̂̀̈͘d̴̙̳̟̯̽͊̇̚ͅ?̵̯̚

Someone in the outside world screams. Damian wants to tell them to shut the fuck up, he’s kind of busy freaking out in here, but the feeling of a hand carressing his jaw suddenly connects him to the real world enough to realize that it’s him doing the screaming. With a  _ snap _ that reverberates through his skull, he’s suddenly launched into his own body again, gasping with surprise and painful aftershocks.

His muscles are sore and aching, he’s sweating and shaking all over, but the pressure is gone. He reaches down to feel his second mouth and sighs in relief when he feels it.  _ Just _ it, no extra body parts. He goes to push himself up but he just collapses. Apparently the twins took a toll on him. That's alright, though, he just needs a little rest. Just a little…

One of the heroes comes over - he thinks he goes by Fawn - and gently shakes Damian after the twin have fled. He groans but blinks his eyes open (when did they close?) to look at him. Then, slowly, Damian's face cracks into a grin as he reaches up to weakly rub at his face to get rid of the sweat (what kind of sweat comes from your eyes?) and make himself slightly more presentable. He hits his jaw on the way down and his hand comes away with a streak of bright red blood, a color he thought would be reserved for strange handprints on the gravel, and he considers it for a long moment.

Well. Guess he’s conveniently never going to mention this when he rescues D.Z.Y. and Walton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Oh No](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730566/chapters/63023779) is the continuation!


	3. The Twins' Intro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this torture? It's totally torture.  
> Anyway, I wanted to write the twins' introduction to the main story before class. 'Cause. I love them. Even if this isn't their official intro it's still good.

The sound of song and flesh hitting flesh echoes through the alleyway. The cloak of darkness has already spread over the city, transforming it into their own personal playground. Well, mostly. There’s heroes to contend with, and though she can’t see them from her vantage point, Liv can feel their minds start to turn towards the sounds. Time to cut playtime short. She hops off of the dumpster with a delicate, practiced movement and strolls deeper into the alley.

Past a corner is her brother with the man that dared tell them they were too young to be alone this late at night, so why not stay with him? Oscar dances around him, singing “Why are you hitting yourself?~” over and over while the man keeps punching himself in the face. Said face is practically unrecognizable at this point, covered in bruises and blood and his nose skewed at an angle that must really, really hurt. Still, he can see Liv through it all, and she feels him start to hope for some relief.

She ignores him and turns towards her brother. “You should probably speed it up, the heroes are coming.”

He pouts and stops waving his hand, the man’s fist stopping with it. “Aw, so soon? You didn’t even get to have your fun!”

She rolls her eyes and ficks his nose. “I can go without it for  _ one _ day.”

His pout worsens as he rubs his nose. The man starts to run for it, but only makes it two steps before Oscar slams his hand down and the man falls hard enough to break his arms when he tries to catch himself. Her brother raises his voice to be heard above the screaming. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to!”

Liv grabs Oscar’s free hand. “We can find someone on the way home. They’re going to be here any second now that he’s being loud.”

He sighs but nods. “Fiiiiine,” he drawls out as he lifts his hand. The man is forced to use his broken arms to stand, leaving him a sobbing mess.

“Please,” he begs, “ _ please _ don’t do this.”

Oscar gives him a little grin. “Sorry.”

Liv speaks up. “He really isn’t.”

Her brother waves his hand to the side and the man charges at the brick wall in front of him. They turn and run just in time to hear one of the heroes shout “Wait!-” as the wet crunch of skull caving in echoes through the alleyway, and Liv can’t help but smile.


	4. Oh No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of [Oh Jeez](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730566/chapters/54420760). Poor Damian
> 
> Oh and there's some body horror 'cause come on, it's Damian

One moment he’s grinning at Fawn and reassuring him that he’s okay. The next moment he’s in darkness. He can feel his limbs, but it’s like he’s dissociating. Like he’s in a dream.  _ Dream _ . That’s what’s happening. Man, what an awkward moment to pass out in.

It’s a weirdly lucid dream if he’s still thinking like this. He squints into the darkness and turns around. Then he has to shield his eyes. Jeez that’s bright. He blinks the spots from his eyes and, once he’s more prepared, lowers his arm. There’s a child in a grey shirt standing before him. A spotlight shines on him. The floor is weirdly fleshy.

“Damian?”

The space changes. The boy is still spotlighted, but now a scene plays between them. Damian doesn’t need to watch - this is his mind, after all. The scene is playing in his “head” at the same time it’s all around him. He watches anyway.

A far younger version of himself laughs with his friend. A duplicate of the one inside the spotlight. They’re dripping wet, holding their soaked shirts as they walk through the woods. Returning from the river to wander back home. Lost but not scared. Damian takes a step back as he watches the child version of himself complain about how hungry he is. His friend laughs.

The laughter stops when he doubles over, clutching his stomach. The boy quickly helps him sit down at the base of a tree. Worried hands hover. Neither of them know what’s going on, both sets of eyes are wide with shock. Then Damian’s go half-lidded as he reiterates how hungry he is. The child pulls his hand away from his stomach. In place of a faint scar on his stomach, a gaping maw. A scream.

Then it’s just Damian, lost and scared.

The scene ends. Damian - the adult version - turns his back on the now fading scene. He shakes slightly, but his voice does not. “Wanted to forget that.”

“Damian…” says a voice behind him. Identical to his young friend.

He pinches himself. Then waits a second. “Damn, I thought that would work.”

Silence.

He doesn’t look back. “Maybe it doesn’t work when you’re expecting it? There has to be a way to end this dream. Maybe uh- is there a dangerous memory I can pull up?”

If a scene is being set, it’s not in front of him. The child speaks. “I’m hungry, Damian.” Another, fainter voice echoes his name.

His shaking abruptly stops. Slowly, so slowly, he turns his head to stare at the child. A dark alleyway stretches out behind him. The shadows move in strange patterns. The boy stares back. Then a smile that  _ isn’t his friend’s cracks that face in two- _

“Damian!”

Damian jolts up, eyes wide, only to be pushed back down by a firm hand. An Asian woman in a doctor’s coat stands above him. Her stern eyes soften slightly when she sees he’s awake, but her tight expression doesn’t change. “Good. You’re responding well.”

He squints at her. Is this the League’s doctor..? He’s forgetting her name but- wait! “Casey the candy lady!”

She rolls her eyes. “At least you remember my name.”

He grins and pushes himself up only to be gently (but firmly) pushed back down. “Of course I do! You’re like the icecream truck but better!”

“I am  _ not _ .”

“Psshh, you  _ are _ better. I can’t believe you don’t believe in yourself-”

“That’s not-”

“But anywho, are you guys here to arrest me? I’m kind of in the hospital. I think.” A glance at the bed confirms that he is not, in fact, in the hospital. It’s too high quality. “Or am I?”

“You’re in our base. And for your information-”

“I’m already arrested??  _ Not _ cool! You can’t arrest an unconscious dude.”

“You are not-”

“And right after I saved the little baby heroes’ asses from the Twins!”

“That’s why you’re here,” a new voice says, and he quickly looks over. It’s Elijah. And hoo boy, he’s got his pupils out. His eyes are a few shades lighter than their normal pitch black, like he’s not quite in angry red-eyes-white-pupils mode but getting there. He’s staring pretty intently too. That plus his eyes immediately puts Damian on edge.

“Ooookay, Mister Angry-Eyes, do you wanna go stand in the rain and cool down or something?”

“I do not,” Elijah rumbles. “I have important business with you.”

“About that fight? Are you going to yell at me for throwing a child off a roof?”

Casey tenses. Elijah’s eyes go a couple shades redder. She glances between the both of them before grabbing some of her equipment and leaving without a word.

Damian glances around to avoid that angry stare. The room looks like repurposed office space with basic (if high quality) hospital equipment haphazardly thrown in. Awww, did they make it just for him?

Elijah shifts in his seat. Then decides to restart the conversation. “You’re awake.”

Might as well follow along. “Yeah, and apparently in your base. You finally take me up on my offer to rescue my friends?”

“Not quite. The inexperienced heroes mentioned something off about the fight that did-” he gestures at Damian “-that.”

Damian looks down at himself. He’s shirtless. His fucked up stomach mouth is easily visible, but so are more than a few cracks spiderwebbing away from it and following the corners to make it appear so much larger. He almost looks like a cracked porcelain doll. “The Twins fucked me up good, huh?” Understatement of the century. “No worries, I know their game now.”

“Not just that”

An attempt to change the subject, this time on his own terms. “What’s the deal with you right now? You’ve never been interested in me before.”

“Not until I heard about what happened,” he answers, bringing that subject right back.

He quickly sits up. Neither of them call out the wince. “What happened was I lost.”

“And-”

“What’s the deal with you, anyway? Powers don’t affect your body. You’re either an illusionist or a  _ freak _ .” He spits out that last word in hopes it’ll draw Elijah away from questioning him.

Once again, he’s persistent. It simply opens the door. “Only as much of a freak as you.”

Elijah receives a glare so he knows that was the wrong move. They sit in stoney silence, Damian only still sitting because he’s sure his legs will give out if he stands.

Eventually Elijah speaks again. “You’re right, however. Normal powers don’t change people’s appearance.”

“ _ Normal? _ ” Damian picks at the fresh cracks in his skin. Elijah’s hand twitches like he wants to stop him. He doesn’t.

“There are other ways to get powers.”

A sneer. “You’re a robot? Nice.”

Elijah rolls his eyes. “More like something akin to Jesus.”

Damian laughs, surprising himself. It’s a proper one, and the best laugh he’s had since he realized Walton kidnapped his boyfriend. “Wait, hold on,  _ what?? _ ”

“It’s true. My mother was a normal tier 0, my father was an eldritch god from the other side.”

“That  _ happens? _ ”

“Do I  _ look _ fully human?”

Well, he’s never really  _ looked _ at him before, so he does so now. This time he sees an almost otherworldly sheen on Elijah’s skin, only noticeable when you’re looking for it. He wants to mistake it for sweat, but an instinctual part of his mind answers for him.  _ Not like me. _

Then -  _ Too much like me? _

“Huh.”

Elijah leans back and crosses his arms. It’s a casual gesture, but his eyes are still more red than black. “Most people don’t realize what some cults are capable of.”

“Like.. making a demon baby?”

“That. And contacting real outer gods.”

Despite himself, Damian puts some of the pieces together. Then he shoves the whole damn puzzle to the back of his mind. “You know, I’m kind of hungry.”

Elijah drags it right back. “Are you really a villain?”

It stumps him for a moment, until he realizes what pieces are being brought up. He’s not stupid. “I eat people.”

“Because you have to? Or because you want to?”

Damian stares for a long moment. He thinks he can stand now, but his legs would be too shaky. Instead he leans back on the headboard. “For whatever reason, I have two different types of hunger.”

That’s barely a deflection and Elijah looks like he knows it. “Normal, and..?”

A pause. “People.”

A nod. “Two hungers for two mouths.”

For a second, everything is fine. Then the puzzle clicks together. Damian sits up again, then stands, putting the bed between him and Elijah. The pieces burn in his hands. The sheets he grabs onto for purchase doesn’t cool them.

Silence.

His mouth is dry. He speaks anyway. “Neither of my parents were-  _ anything _ like yours.”

“Grandparents?”

Damian turns to Elijah. “Why do you want to know?”

Elijah doesn’t answer. Damian already knows. The pity in those red-black eyes burns hotter than anything else.

“No one did  _ anything _ like that. My parents- they researched this shit when they found my mouth, okay?? Went back through the generations as far as they could go!”

“Have you always had it?”

A forest. Laughter. A kid. Screaming. Remains of a bloody corpse. The grey tiled floor looks too much like the shirt his friend used to wear. “Not like this.” His vision is blurry.

He blinks his eyes clear and looks up. This time the pity doesn’t burn. It grabs and  _ squeezes _ . “I could guess,” Elijah whispers. His eyes are black now, only hints of pupils.

Damian can barely breath. He straightens up anyway. “I’m not you.” The echoing laugher in his head says otherwise.

“Not  _ me _ . But people like us appear through different methods.”

He can’t protest being lumped in. Something twists his insides. At first he thinks it’s the pity, then he realizes it’s hunger. He remembers the last words of the friend in his head.  _ I’m hungry, Damian _ .

He’s not stupid.

Damian grabs his sweatshirt from an empty chair and throws it on, ignoring the unnatural bright red stain on the front. “I’m hungry,” he says. The glance at Elijah says it all.

Elijah, for his part, does not give him another look of pity. He stands up instead. “I’ll lead you out the back way. They shouldn’t notice for a while.”

“You’re a hero, why are you helping me?”

“I-” he starts. Then he snaps his mouth shut, reconsiders his words, and starts again. “I think starving yourself would do much more harm than good.”

Damian hears the subtext like Elijah said it out loud. “Maybe.” Maybe starving himself would lead to an outer god style rampage.

Elijah offers his hand. “Follow me.”

He doesn’t take it. “After you.”

Goddamn, he needs time to think. And preferably time to forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go look at [Pepper's art](https://pepperpixel.tumblr.com/tagged/pepper-and-ghasts-children) for our characters... I beg of you...


End file.
